


Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

by Not_You



Series: Dreamhouse [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Drag Queens, M/M, Makeup, Rimming, Singing, do it for charity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint, Steve, and Sam are all doing drag for charity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint doesn't usually do drag. He's well aware that he's poorly-suited to it, but this is for charity. The Midnight Mile gets all the liquor money, of course, but a children's hospital gets one hundred percent of the door and so Clint finds himself perusing Natasha's wig collection. Natasha is amazing and some kind of secret agent lipstick bulldagger, and so has all kinds of wigs. In the end she puts her 'princess wig' on Clint and says, "You may borrow this one, and no other. It makes you look almost feminine." He supposes he'll take a lesbian's word on that, and bundles the long brown tresses up carefully into a brown paper bag, carrying it away with promises to brush it and take good care of it. At home he tries it on again in front of the mirror. The hair is a bright, shimmering brown, and reaches the middle of his back in loose waves. Phil comes back while he still has it on, squinting into the mirror as he applies eyeliner.

"What's the occasion?" Phil asks, leaning on the doorjamb and watching him.

"Charity drag show at the Mile. Steve and Sam are probably gonna do it too."

"Oh."

"It's not really my thing, but I'll mince around for a good cause. It's been years, though, so I think I'm gonna go for funny over sexy or real."

"…You could manage sexy, Clint."

"Aw, thanks, baby."

It's a sweet thing to say, but with Clint's big hands and ripped arms there's no way he'll be anything but ridiculous in a dress. "What kind of number were you thinking of?" Phil asks, and Clint suddenly grins, because he knows.

"I think I'll keep it a surprise. You are coming, right?"

"Of course. What's the charity?"

"Children's Hospital across town."

"Then you know I'm coming, Clint."

The next few days are utterly surreal. Clint, Sam and Steve all practice together and share costume pieces. Clint isn't sure what to wear, but then finds a leather duster and the devil on his shoulder tells him to wear it over lingerie, which he borrows from Sam because they're about the same size and Sam has done this more recently. Sam's drag persona is Foxxy Black, who is brassy and sassy and wears a big blonde afro wig that makes a crisp and arresting contrast with Sam's dark skin, and couldn't be more different from Angelique, Steve's sweet and very real and ladylike persona. Angelique has long dark hair, and Steve does ballet eyes, black liner around white. It makes his eyes seem to take up half of his face, and he paints pretty pink over his own mouth, barely needing to change the shape at all. Clint has a rougher time, and winds up using the same trick around his eyes and painting on an artificial bee-stung little cupid's bow mouth. He still looks like a boy in makeup, but at least it's good makeup. A gigantic set of false eyelashes helps.

Sam sings very well but in the bass range, and so will simply be lip-synching to Madonna because he doesn't have time to re-learn his Nina Simone selections. Steve and Clint both have light enough voices to do their own singing, though, and practice their songs religiously. Clint works out his pseudo striptease and Steve comes up with the sweetest and most demure movements for his own number. The program is going to start wholesome and get dirtier as midnight comes on, so Steve will definitely be done in time to watch his friends, which is nice. With some blush and his own set of false eyelashes he could almost really be a girl, and Clint chuckles, watching him start to change back.

"So, is Bucky bi?"

Steve blushes and nods, pulling off his delicate little white kitten heels and matching opera gloves. "Yeah. He likes Angelique."

"You ever go out like that and pass? 'Cause you could, if you wanted to."

"I have, but mostly by accident. It seems dishonest."

Clint laughs, carefully tucking the princess wig back into its bag and scratching his head, lacy red lingerie and matching fuck-me pumps still in place. "You would say that."


	2. Chapter 2

Phil still has no idea what Clint will be doing, and it's beginning to drive him crazy. He's seen Angelique before, and knows that Sam's number is going to be a raunchy take on 'Like a Virgin,' and even knows what shoes both of them will be wearing, but none of this for the man he actually lives with. The secretive bastard he lives with, anyway. The show might as well be some kind of top-secret assassination mission for all Clint talks about it, and he insists on taking Hawkeye rather than riding with Phil. It's enough to make him want to chew the steering wheel, and he arrives early just in case Clint has gone wholesome, which Phil definitely doubts. Clint knows the bouncers and they won't let Phil backstage because they know Clint's number is supposed to be a surprise. Phil curses them good-naturedly and goes to stake out a table. Bucky sees him and waves him over, and they talk until the lights go down, when Bucky does dead silent and utterly rapt. The MC announces Miss Angelique, and Phil shakes his head in amazement as a lovely brunette girl in a white gown steps out, only her big blue eyes letting Phil know who she really is. She sings 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' in a sweet, aching countertenor, and no one makes a sound until she's done. Phil looks over during the applause, and decides that even if Bucky hadn't even spoken to Steve before tonight, he'd be in love.

After Steve are a string of people who aren't Clint, and as the acts get more brazen, Phil breaks out in a light sweat because Clint still hasn't gone. Maybe he's lost his nerve, but as Phil watches Foxxy Black hump the air to 'Like a Virgin' row upon row of beads swaying with her hips, he doubts it. He's sure Clint is back there, lurking. Watching, waiting, waiting for the right moment to come out and give Phil some kind of aneurysm. Steve whoops and cheers along with everyone else, back to himself now except for some smudged eyeliner that makes him even more adorable.

"Steve, please, what the hell is Clint going to sing? I'm begging you."

Steve just giggles and shakes his head, leaning on Bucky and sipping a long-necked beer. "A lady doesn't reveal another lady's secrets, you know that."

"You're killing him, baby, you're goddamn killing him," Bucky says, grinning.

"Please survive, boss. Think of the children!"

Phil almost spews his drink at that, and then again when Lolita DeVille is announced. She's heavy and strong and not all that convincing, but that really doesn't matter as she sashays out in a leather duster and devil red pumps to a familiar piano piece. Phil is still trying to place it when she begins, not bothering to disguise Clint's high, sweet tenor.

"While tearing off a game of golf/I may make a play for the caddy…" Phil can't help some helpless, muffled noise, and gulps half his drink. "But when I do," Lolita admits, big eyes turned heavenwards as sure as Mary Martin's, "I don’t follow through/ ‘Cause my heart belongs to Daddy."

She even sings the finnan haddie line, complete with a wink as she licks between her first two fingers, letting the coat slip just enough to reveal one red bra strap. She teases her audience with all the lacy edges of her lingerie without actually stripping, finishing off by singing the line about how Daddy might spank her if she's bad in a tone that makes Bucky mutter, " _Please_ don't throw me in that briar patch." Phil just does his best not to squeak, and then claps until his hands hurt.

"Phil, can you get the next round?"

"Sure," he says, passing Steve some cash. Steve blinks at him, and Phil can feel himself going pink. "I can't get up just now, Steve."

"…oh. Right." Steve blushes and then grins, standing . "Of course." He vanishes toward the bar, and Phil pinches himself viciously under the table until he can actually get up and limp backstage. The bouncers give him knowing smiles and let him into the dressing room, where Clint is carefully brushing out his wig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All lyrics are Cole Porter's, of course.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint actually has the shakes despite his elation. It's easily the boldest performance he's ever given, and now that it's done he's afraid it was maybe too trashy for Phil, or that he should've asked before referencing their kink so publicly, even if no one else gets it. He jumps when the door opens, and smiles shyly when he sees Phil there.

"Hi."

"You utter bastard," Phil says, but he takes Clint into his arms and kisses him deeply, so he's not _that_ pissed. Clint sighs and tries not to cling too obviously, then shudders as he feels Phil's hard cock against him. "You're perfect," he growls, and Clint whimpers.

"I love you, Daddy," he whispers, just glad there's no one else in the dressing room, all the other girls either onstage or waiting in the wings.

"I love you too, baby boy," Phil murmurs, nuzzling his neck. Clint shivers, reaching down to rub Phil through his pants.

"Take me home, Daddy?"

"Always."

They make their escape quickly, Clint wearing the duster over nothing but the shoes. Phil drives quickly but safely, and soon they're home and upstairs with the door closed behind them. Clint feels all melted around the edges, androgynous and ageless, and whimpers happily in Phil's arms. Phil shivers and covers him with kisses before pushing him onto his back and slowly unbuttoning the coat, whimpering as he touches and smells the rich material. Clint purrs and wriggles, sighing as Phil nuzzles him and the leather.

"Daddy…"

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," Phil murmurs, kissing Clint's inner thigh and spreading his legs. "Am I invited to dine?"

Clint blushes and squirms. "Yes, Daddy." He thinks he's getting a blowjob until Phil moves lower and Clint is probably all sweaty and… oh. He has never let Phil do this fully sober before. It always takes a bowl or a drink before he can really deal with rimming, and now he's far too clear, whining in embarrassed lust as Phil's tongue rubs and slides. Phil just pins Clint's hips down and purrs, working him open like nothing has ever tasted better, and Clint whines and thrashes his head, already close to coming. "Daddy, Daddy…" Clint whimpers, clutching at him. "Do you really like that?"

"I love it," Phil purrs, and Clint moans, legs trembling. "I love seeing you like this," he goes on a fervent whisper, "I love eating you out, I love _you_."

"Daddy!' Clint moans, writhing as Phil starts tongue-fucking him again, so hot and wet and perfect. He reaches up and strokes Clint's cock as well, making him wail. "Daddy, I can't, I can't—" He's coming before he can even manage to say that he won't last, bucking and shaking under Phil, clinging to him. Clint greys out for a bit, floating as Phil sits up and gathers him close. He holds Clint until the ringing in his ears stops and he can see again, then gets up to brush his teeth and wet a washcloth to clean Clint. He does it slowly and tenderly, doing a thorough job even though he's still rock hard.

"Daddy," Clint whispers, "Daddy, let me make you feel good."

Phil shudders. "Such a good boy." He kisses Clint deeply, and then sits back to get his own clothes off. Phil hisses and winces as he frees his aching cock, pausing with it in his hand and biting his lip, trying not to come just from his own touch. "How do you want it, baby? How do you want Daddy's cock?"

Clint whimpers. "Inside me, Daddy. Please." He squirms, and Phil moans, settling between his legs and kissing him, deep and hungry and just like the rimming. It seems like there's no part of Clint that Phil won't worship, and that feeling always brings tears to his eyes. Now he whimpers and wraps around Phil, softly begging to be fucked as Phil moans and scrabbles for lube, pushing three slick fingers into Clint's wet, relaxed hole. Clint takes them easily, crying out and biting Phil's shoulder. "Please, Daddy," he groans, and Phil slides his fingers out and sinks his cock in, making both of them moan in the same helpless way, melting together. It seems like forever but can't be more than a few minutes before Phil is shaking, pouring himself into Clint.


End file.
